


A Carriage Ride

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:40:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU set in Victorian England. Sansa is unhappily married to the rich Petyr Baelish and her days are spent in misery as she remains up on that steep ice covered hill. Once in a while she finds herself entertaining the idea of leaving that life behind and so seeks out that mysterious carriage driver with the bad tempered horse.</p>
<p>
  <em>It was as if the winter wind beckoned something out of her, like a wolf to the call of the moon.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Carriage Ride

The carriage driver wrapped his coat tighter around his body as the harsh winter winds crept down his neck. He stood slumped against his carriage as he waited outside the Eyries Mansion for the rich and famous to stop drowning themselves in rich red wine and dancing and glittering golden jewels. The whole thing made him went to wretch, but there was a reason he stayed. 

The mansion was situated on a steep hill which only the most experienced drivers could navigate upon safely. This particular carriage driver was one of those such men and so he waited. One of the horses snorted impatiently and stamped the ground with one hoof, but the driver ignored him. 

He glanced at the large doors then quickly took out a whisky flask from his coat pocket and took a swig before swiftly returning it. The carriage driver felt the warm liquid trickle down his spine as he eyed the mansion. Glistening in the moon lit ice it seemed almost like it was made of glass, some would say it looked beautiful, but not the carriage driver. Molded from poverty and bitter realities, he had no regard for the rich and found his necessary comfort in the bottom of a bottle. 

The door opening dragged the carriage driver from his thoughts and he saw a figure walking hurriedly towards him. It was a girl, a pretty one at that, with long auburn hair that was piled onto her head in a bun and she wore a long cream coloured dress that rippled in the wind. The driver climbed into his seat on the carriage and waited. The girl crossed the drive in no time and hopped into the compartment, saying nothing. The driver waited, yet not directions or name of place was given; no words crossed those pink lips. He sighed and sat back, leaning against the carriage window where the girl’s silhouette could just be made out.

“Same as usual, little bird?” He asked, his voice a low rasp.

He watched as the girl gave a stiff nod through the window. Wordless, the driver reined his horse into motion and they set off at a slow trot, leaving the ice palace behind them. After some time he heard the squeak of the window being opened against his back and the girl poked her head out.

“May I sit in the front?” She asked.

The driver nodded and before he could say anything, she had clambered out of the window and sat behind him, smiling proudly at his frowning face.

The dark horse suddenly whickered loudly and the carriage was given a jolt as he reined up, but the driver gave him a warning growl.

The girl eyed the horse uncertainly. “I don’t think Stranger likes me yet.”

The driver snorted. “He doesn’t like anyone ‘cept me. We’re as bad tempered as each other.”

The girl laughed and sat back comfortably against the wooden seat, taking a deep breath of winter air.

“There’s nothing like the smell of a forest on a cold night, it makes me think I could be anyone at this moment,” she said.

He eyed the girl beside him at her comment. Her name was Sansa Stark and she was the most precious thing the carriage driver had ever laid eyes upon. She lived up in the Eyries Mansion with a man who had tricked her into marrying him for her dowry, coming from a rich family, and now she lived out her days in misery. Her family had scattered about the land so she had been left all alone on that cold hill top. Sansa reminded the driver of those tiny snow globes he had once seen in a shop window, they seemed so delicate that they might break if held too tightly. 

He had first met her on a night like this; she had come running out of the mansion with only one shoe on, her hair flying wildly behind her, her eyes wide, fleeing whatever nightmares had stalked her through that godforsaken house. The driver suspected she wanted him to take her away from this place, but she had merely opened her mouth several times, choked by guilt and fear until eventually a sob escaped her lips instead. The carriage driver would have happily driven her off into the night, away from that place, but she hadn’t wanted to leave. And so every so often she would walk out of that door, head held high; full of powerful thoughts of leaving her husband and her life here, but they would slowly melt like the ice on her window and she would end up going back there at the end of the night. So the driver merely took her on a little ride just down the hill and back, it seemed to relax her. She was a good girl and sweet too; a precious thing.

Her nickname had come the second time he had met her when she had slipped on the ice, causing her feather boa to rip, leaving her in a pile of feathers looking like a little bird learning to fly.

“And who would you be tonight, little bird?”

Sansa chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment before inspiration struck. “I am a little bird who had a spell cast on her by a kind fairy which turned me human, but only for the night.”

The driver chuckled and the girl laughed, pulling a blanket out from underneath the seat. She wrapped it around herself and huddled a little closer to the driver. He felt her sigh and knew the smile had faded. Sansa no longer listened to stories, she told him once, but just for a moment, for a tiny moment her eyes had lit up as her dusty imagination began to weave its colourful magic once more.

The driver would wait patiently for the night when Sansa would come running out of that house for the last time and he could take her away from this place. He had never been one for knights and tales of rescuing girls, but if anyone was deserving of a rescue it was his little bird.

Her long auburn hair whirled around like a fire in the darkness as she watched the silhouetted trees fly past. She lifted a lazy arm and let her fingertips graze the leaves hanging from the outstretched branches. 

“You want to lose your arm, girl?” The driver warned.

Sansa eyed the driver with a smirk. “I do not fear the trees.”

The driver stifled a laugh and looked out across the sky. He enjoyed seeing this mischievous side of the little bird, so used to seeing a frantic look in her eyes as she crossed the drive from the mansion to his carriage. The driver believed it to have something to do with the sound of horse hooves on the ice covered ground and the cold air, as if the winter wind beckoned something out of her, like a wolf to the call of the moon.

But she retreated back into the blankets, a pink blush adorning her cheeks. The driver pulled out his flask and took a couple of gulps enjoying the warmth spread through his chilled bones and he noticed the little bird eyeing it curiously.

“Want some?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If I may,” she replied, taking it from him.

Sansa took a hesitant sniff of the liquid before wrinkling her nose. The driver began to laugh until he saw her quickly raise the flask to her lips and finish the rest of it. Sansa coughed and spluttered, her eyes watering.

“Not what you were expecting?” 

Sansa shook her head, giggling.

By this time the two of them had reached the bottom of the hill and would now turn back around. Not for the first time the driver wondered what it would be like to keep going with the little bird by his side, to take her away from this god forsaken place. Take her somewhere she could be happy, where she could be free. The driver pulled the carriage to a halt with these thoughts strong in his mind.

“I could take you away from here, you know that, little bird,” The driver said, his voice deep.

Sansa sat back in the seat, a sad smile playing on her lips. “I know.”

“Just say the word,” he continued.

Neither spoke for several minutes and so the driver urged the horses on and they began the ascent back up to the house. 

“Maybe you should just take me,” Sansa said, her words beginning to slur from the whisky.

“I’ve half a mind to,” the driver replied, rolling his eyes.

Sansa laughed and raised her arms up to the indigo heavens, making swimming motions with her hands as though the clouds were waves upon the vast sea above.

“One day,” Sansa smiled, closing her eyes.

The driver could see how she wished to taste freedom on her tongue, to let her feet touch unknown and exciting ground as she would when she would leave the mansion behind them. But tonight was not that night.

“So are you finally going to tell me your name?” The little bird asked, her blue eyes on him.

“I’ve told you before, it doesn’t matter what my name is,” The driver muttered, anxious to keep up a barrier between himself and Sansa.

Sansa scooted up close to him, lolled her head onto his arm and looked up at him pleadingly. The driver frowned and refused to look at her, knowing what effect she was having on him, being so close.

“Please,” she whispered.

The driver felt himself drawn to that small voice by his side and, almost subconsciously, looked down into the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen, with little flicks of silver in them. He was but an inch from Sansa’s face, so close he could feel her breath on his lips.

“It’s Sandor,” he murmured, feeling the name being drawn out from him by that wondering look in her eyes.

They had reached the house by that point and Sansa could hear the call of her duty and responsibility from within, but in that moment her attention was drawn to his parted lips so close to hers. With all the self-restraint she could muster in her state of heart and mind, she drew herself back slightly from Sandor’s face. His expression remained unchanged, watching her. 

But Sansa smiled softly and, holding onto his cheek, kissed the other softly.

“Good night, Sandor,” she whispered.

“Night, little bird,” he replied.

With that she hopped down from the carriage and onto the driveway, her movements more relaxed and slow, though whether from the kiss or the alcohol Sandor could not say. 

Sansa danced into the overflowing lights that poured from the tall windows, the feel of his cheek still beneath her lips. 

And she knew he would be there tomorrow.


End file.
